Alright, alright, I'm SORRY! Forgive me??? I've been so caught up with all the year twelve bullshit that I haven't had much time to do this! I've tried, I really have, and I'm sorry that it's such a short chapter. But enjoy it, none-the-less.
Chapter Eight
Hadrian's Wall came into view and Hermione felt relief flood her. "There it is!" Someone called from the large pack of followers. "We've done it!"
"Well done, Sir Arthur." Guinevere's silky voice came from the front of the pack as she walked alongside the knight. "You and your knights have done well."
"It is thanks to everyone that we made it here." He said gruffly, though a slight tone of relief laced his words. Hermione smiled at his flushed cheeks. Rolling her eyes fondly, she continued on without comment. He was beginning to remind her of Harry, she mused sadly.
An hour later, they entered the gates. Cheers drifted from the followers and relief seemed to radiate from them all.
As the villagers settled in the small settlements, Hermione was taken with the knights, Guinevere and the Roman Family to the keep, where they were met by the Bishop.
"Arthur Castus! And your knights! Welcome back! Welcome back!" He exclaimed jovially, though there was definitely an undertone to his voice. "You succeeded, I see!" He was beaming at them, and Hermione felt evil roll off him in waves. He waltzed over to the carriage and pulled Alecto out and embraced him, ignoring Fulcinia. "Where is Marius?"
"He did not make it." Alecto said quickly, shooting a glance at the knights. "He fell ill." He lied.
Hermione stifled a smile as the Bishop frowned. "Oh. No matter." He continued. "It is so good to see you, Alecto. How much you have grown!" He exclaimed. Germanius then had the family escorted inside to private chambers, where they could rest.
"Now, if you don't mind, Bishop, my knights would like their papers." Arthur said coldly, gesturing to the tired and worn down knights. None so worn as Dagonet, who had managed to push down his heightening fever to collect his payment.
"Of course, of course!" The Bishop said, gesturing for the scrolls to be bought forward. He was handed a wooden box and opened it, waiting for the knights to collect. "You are free."
Lancelot stepped forward, grinning in triumph as he took each scroll and handed it to the owner. "We're done here." He said, sending a hard look at the Bishop.
It was by mischance and possible bad luck that said Bishop's eyes landed on the curly-haired witch, who had been standing idly by, watching as each face of the band of knights lit up with glee when handed their scrolls of release. "You? You're still alive?"
Hermione glared at him. "It appears so. Yes." She answered coldly.
"Why have you not killed the woad, yet, Knights?" He asked, looking angrier by the second. "I thought you said that this woad would be useful for one thing only – you have no need for her now."
"She has redeemed herself, Bishop." Tristan said quietly. The Bishop's head snapped up to look at the offender. "She saved the life of one of our own. She is the reason Dagonet lives."
"If you touch her, you die." Gawain said coolly.
The Bishop glared around him. "You would not dare to harm me. For a witch, too." He spat, his eyes connecting with Hermione's for a second, before he glanced away, a new idea dawning in his head. He smiled uncharacteristically. "No matter, you can keep your whore."
Rage filled Hermione and before anyone had the chance to stop her, before the Bishop had the chance to smirk, she found herself stepping forward in one quick motion and connecting her fist with his nose in a crunch.
His head whipped back and a yell of pain emitted from his mouth. Hermione was pulled back roughly by Galahad, and the guards were instantly standing with their spears in her direction.
"Arrest her!" The Bishop spluttered, wiping the blood from his nose.
"No!" Galahad defended.
Arthur looked from Galahad to the Bishop. He needed to diffuse the situation quickly. "Galahad, let them take her." He said, seriously. He then looked at the guards as she was reluctantly released into their custody. "If you harm her, I will kill you." He said coolly.
Hermione shouted. "Let me GO!" She struggled against their rough hands and reached out for Arthur. "You bastard!" She yelled, glaring him furiously. "Traitor! You said I'd be safe!" They took her away kicking and screaming and threw her roughly into a dungeon that smelt like it had been subject to all kinds of prisoners.
As they locked the iron door, she slumped to the ground, feeling betrayed. How could they allow her to be bound up – again? Bastards. She scowled, wondering how long they'd keep her in here for.
~The Legendary~
"Psst! Lady Hermione!" She jolted upright, her neck creaking in the process. She turned to find Galahad watching her through the bars. "I'm sorry." He said sincerely.
She crawled to the bars, ignoring the protests of her aching bones. "So you should be." She said snappily, but her features soon changed to relief. "But thank you for coming." She whispered.
He grinned at her grateful tone. "I really am sorry. You must understand that Arthur..."
"He didn't want to cause any more conflict. I get it, Galahad. It's fine. But please, don't just sit there. Tell me you've come to get me out." She begged, her hands reaching through the iron bars to grasp one of his. She knew it was cruel and manipulative, but she felt the bites of the fleas and the stench of the cell was beginning to overwhelm her already. She had to get out.
He looked at her, hazel coloured eyes shining with something that was unknown to him. She knelt in front of him and withdrew her hands at his silence. He wanted them back immediately. "Hermione, I – well, can't you magic yourself out?" He questioned, looking hopeful.
She hesitated. "I-I can't... I mean, it'll be difficult to do... especially because I don't have a wand... I could splinch myself." She muttered, more to herself than the company.
"Splinch?" He asked, confused. She looked up at him and bit her lip. "You can't do it?"
"I don't think so..." She admitted. Oh, if Harry and Ron could see her now! "It's a little too dangerous. I could lose a body part."
Galahad watched as she sat back, defeated. He frowned. "Look, I'll try to get you out of here. I promise I'll try my hardest." He said sincerely.
Hermione smiled slightly, her heart fluttering as the knight before her ran a hand through his messy hair and promised to break her free of her prison cell. She almost laughed out loud at the cliché she was currently in. "Thank you, Galahad. Really, I appreciate that."
He smiled and her heart jolted. "I've got to go, Hermione. I will return. I promise." He said, grasping her hand briefly through the bars. Their eyes met for a fleeting moment and she couldn't help the shy smile that crossed her lips as he looked away quickly, his cheeks colouring.
"Bye Galahad." She said softly as he released her hand reluctantly. He made his way out of the dungeons, headed straight for the pub, feeling the need to drown his sorrows... and possibly find Arthur.
"Galahad!" Bors roared with merriment. He waltzed over and clapped the slightly younger man on the shoulder. "How goes our Lady Hermione in her prison?" He asked, looking worried. After all, she had saved his best mate.
Galahad sighed. "She is strong. But I don't know how long she can last." He said glumly, as Tristan and Gawain joined the pair.
"She'll be fine." Tristan said wisely.
"Can't she use her magic?" Gawain asked curiously. He studied his closest companion and smiled as he saw a spark of unhappiness for the young girl behind his eyes. Galahad was warming up to the girl very quickly.
Galahad shook his head regretfully. "She said it's too dangerous to try. Something could go very wrong."
"Lady Hermione will survive for the night. But tomorrow, I suggest we speak with Arthur. Come now, boys, I challenge you lot to another game of Target." Tristan said, pulling the knife from his belt.
Galahad and Gawain simultaneously groaned. "There goes the last of my coins." Gawain muttered, pulling his own knife from the sheaf.
Bors excused himself to go and find Vanora whilst Galahad took aim, imagining his target was the shiny bald head of the Bishop that locked up the fair woman who wouldn't leave his tired mind alone.
